


For the Children

by suitesamba



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, Kid Fic, M/M, Secret Snarry Swap 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-12 15:27:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12962427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suitesamba/pseuds/suitesamba
Summary: Ten years after the demise of Voldemort, Severus is living a perfectly satisfying and very private life as a disenfranchised Wizard with the very occasional, and highly satisfying, company of Harry Potter. But when Potter shows up on his doorstep one morning with two familiar-looking children, Severus' safe and uneventful life takes a sudden turn toward the implausible and he soon finds that he has everything he didn't even know he was missing.





	For the Children

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you mods and thank you badgerlady. It’s house-elf. Yes to the hyphen, no to capital H. I’ve got it. I promise… And to the prompter - I've taken a lot of liberties with the prompt but hope it's something you enjoy nonetheless.
> 
> Prompt 56 from goddess47: Harry left Britain immediately after the war; he's come back 10 years later with a toddler who needs a special potion (for reasons of the writer's choice) and seeks out our favorite Potions master

Severus Snape, in the ten Dark Lord-free years he’d enjoyed since his headmaster days had abruptly ended, had had good days and bad days. The scales had finally tipped in his favour within the last few months and he could say, with some conviction, that the good days now outnumbered the bad.

Good, of course, was a subjective term. If he woke up and there was tea in the house, the day had promise. If his knee bent on its own accord, without benefit of an Elasticity Charm, all the better. If the morning _Prophet_ had no mention of rogue Death Eaters or Albus Dumbledore, he’d replace his scowl with a neutral frown. And if the infernal neighborhood _children_ kept their football out of his yard, he’d call it a day and celebrate with a modest glass of brandy.

And if Harry Potter showed up on his doorstep, well…

This particular day, a day he would long remember and, likely, never forget, started off poorly.

The _Prophet_ , the _entire_ paper, was about the infernal war, the Battle of Hogwarts, and the Boy Who Lived. The front page headline screamed, in bold, two-inch letters, **TEN YEARS GONE.** And just below the banner were large-as-life photographs of himself and Albus Dumbledore. Albus was pictured behind his desk, somehow managing to look thoughtful, wise and powerful. Severus, however, looked as though he’d just stumbled out of bed to open the door to find the paparazzi camped out on his doorstep. 

Strictly speaking, Albus had been gone eleven years to his ten, but he couldn’t exactly call up the paper and demand a correction, being as he, like Albus, was dead.

Or assumed to be, by nearly every witch and wizard in the Wizarding world.

With one notable exception.

And that exception hadn’t shown his face in Great Britain in nearly a decade. Not to anyone save Severus Snape, anyway. And truth be told, he’d shown quite a bit more than his face to Severus.

Not that Harry Potter was dead, or even assumed to be dead. He’d just chosen another path, a _private_ path, explained Arthur Weasley in a feature story in _The Quibbler_ a few months after the Battle. Off to find himself or some such drivel, on some Polynesian island, or in Alaska, or some other quite unlikely place. 

No one would ever have guessed that this very same Potter was leading an extremely stress-free life and making a better-than-average living as a massage therapist working with resort guests on pristine Caribbean beaches. 

But wonder of wonders, Potter had accepted his Ministry invitation to the annual commemorative ceremony and ball and, if the _Prophet_ was correct, was expected to appear in London any day now.

And if Potter was coming to London, he would soon pop in on Severus, knocking on his door at some ungodly time of the morning, as usual. They’d stare at each other from opposite sides of the threshold, sizing the other up. Severus would remark on Potter’s unruly hair and warn him not to get sand in his bed. Potter would comment on Severus’ ratty dressing gown and the depression his reading glasses had cut into the bridge of his nose. Severus would eventually step back with a sigh and hold the door open. Potter would step through, push the door shut behind him, and within seconds they’d be snogging against the wall, and soon thereafter, rolling around naked in bed, insulting each other’s parentage, and enjoying again the kind of sexual adventures he’d never imagined could be his for the asking. He’d assumed the first time had been a one-off, even though Potter had left behind a large bottle of lube in his bedside table drawer, but was surprised to find Potter back several months later. He was now nearly a regular visitor, as evidenced by the nearly empty industrial-sized bottle of lube, the green striped vibrating toothbrush in Severus’ medicine chest and the dispenser of obnoxious mint dental floss.

Severus folded the paper and sighed with an unexpected rumble of contentment. He felt the most delicious curl of anticipation in his loins at the thought of an imminent visit from Potter and his quite delectable arse.

And while the morning started off with the headache-inducing headline and photo in the _Prophet_ , a visit from Potter would certainly turn it back around again. But before that could happen, the day continued its original downhill slide. Severus broke both yolks when he fried up his eggs, then found he was nearly out of tea and had to settle for a weak cuppa of a decaffeinated variety. On his walk home from the market, tea and other necessities packed neatly in his shopping bag, the horde of adolescents playing football in the lot on the corner noticed him passing too late to stop play, and the ball bounced directly into his stomach, taking all the breath out of him. He managed to hold onto the groceries and, careful not to show any sign that he was barely able to breathe, scooped up the ball and tossed it over the fence into Valentine Tinker’s yard.

A collective groan went up from the children. Finally, something to smile about.

Val Tinker had the most obnoxious, unpredictable, mouthy cur of a dog in Manchester. A dog that spent most of its time in the yard looking at children as potential meals, and the remaining time watching through the plastic panel of its doggy door for trespassers.

Having ground the football game to a premature halt, Severus was feeling pleasantly smug as he approached his home. It wasn’t his childhood home – but a near duplicate the next street over. He’d acquired this particular house during the year of the Triwizard Tournament, as it became increasingly likely that the Dark Lord was actually going to pull off a return. He furnished it sparsely and moved quite a few of his possessions into it – things he wanted to keep, things he didn’t want his Death Eater cohorts to find. Spinner’s End became home to furniture so old his parents had bought it secondhand before he was born, a veritable library of books, helpful to maintain his image, and most of which were easily replaceable or totally useless, and a smattering of old kitchen supplies and threadbare bedding.

The availability of the back-up home on Fetter Lane proved quite useful when the house on Spinner’s End went to one of his mother’s cousins after his supposed death. The title to the home on Fetter Lane was held in the name of his alter ego, an identity Albus had provided him when he began spying for the Order of the Phoenix.

Alistair Cuddles.

Sometimes he _hated_ Albus Dumbledore.

He’d been living as Alistair Cuddles for ten years now and no one in the Wizarding world seemed the wiser. Albus, damn his twinkling soul, had thought of everything, such that he had Muggle identification, bank account and backstory – a work-at-home, curmudgeonly writer of instruction manuals on putting together assemble-it-yourself home exercise equipment.

Unfortunately, the backstory came with an actual job. Seven or eight times a year, a new piece of exercise equipment arrived on his front porch in a large cardboard box with all the requisite parts for the exercise fad of the month and a brief schematic from the engineering team on assembly. He’d had to create a home gym in his attic using Wizarding space to store it all. He didn’t bother raising the ceiling, so that the equipment fit in the attic, but he couldn’t actually use any of it, save the recumbent bicycle and the Stretch-Easy, which looked like a mediaeval torture device, without banging his head.

Damn Albus. Damn him to bloody _hell_ in a handbasket.

It wasn’t at all unusual to find large packages on his front porch – the delivery service didn’t even bother getting his signature anymore – and as Severus walked home that afternoon, feeling a bit better after chucking the offending football into Tinker’s yard, he assumed the ambiguous shape he noted on his porch from a block away was yet another delivery. He’d been expecting the inane, ill-advised side-by-side treadmill, with separate controls and running paths for up to three family members. He sighed. Another day ruined.

But the shape soon resolved itself as being more human than box-like and, as he got even closer, turned out to be something quite unlikely – a human, a smaller human, and a _pram_.

Given the presence of the child and the pram, he was completely surprised that the larger human was Harry Potter – a very uncomfortable, unsettled and paranoid Harry Potter.

“Babysitting, Potter?” he muttered as he mounted the steps to his porch, door key in hand. “Really?” Potter’s visits were always for sex. Uninhibited, imaginative sex. They didn’t do things together other than watch Muggle movies on the television and talk about a variety of non-personal topics. That was the arrangement, spoken or not. Severus was not in a mood to change things up with children. Besides the infant squalling in the pram, Potter was holding a small child by the hand. He glanced in the pram – the infant had a shock of auburn hair – obviously a Weasley, then.

“Um – yeah. Sure. Babysitting. Good to see you, too.” He stared at Snape, much as he usually did from the porch, though Severus was more often on the opposite side of the door. “You’re wearing jeans.”

“Excellent observation. And you’ve come to my home with children, which means that we cannot engage in our usual activities. So go away.” He hid his disappointment behind the rudeness and decided then and there to use Potter’s toothbrush to clean the tile grout in the shower.

Potter, who was wearing a rather nice, form-fitting pair of denims himself, rolled his eyes. The infant in the pram fussed and Potter glanced at it a bit desperately, then jiggled the handle of the pram.

The older child – whose gender wasn’t immediately obvious in the old-fashioned Wizarding get-up it was wearing – reached into the pram, extracted a dummy from somewhere beneath the coverlet, and inserted it into the baby’s mouth. The infant started sucking at it aggressively and instantly stopped fussing.

“He needs something in his mouth,” the child – whom Severus now thought to be a boy – seemed exasperated, folding his arms before him. “I already _told_ you that!”

“Yeah – well, I forgot,” Potter muttered. The child sighed dramatically, then cocked his little head up and looked at Severus straight-on.

“Do you have biscuits?” he asked, eying the shopping bag Severus carried and the package of biscuits clearly showing out the top.

Severus shook the bag so the biscuit package fell down a few inches.

“Certainly not,” he said. “I’m far too old for biscuits.”

“Please – can we go inside? I need to tell you – ” Potter looked furtively down the street, then up again at the children. “ _Things._ ”

“Things?” Snape asked. He was instantly suspicious. He didn’t move to unlock the door.

“Things,” confirmed Potter. He reached out but apparently thought better of it, dropping his hand to his side before he touched Severus. “Please.”

Something pulled at Severus’ trouser leg.

“I have to pee.”

Severus rolled his eyes and opened the door.

ooOOOoo

The child – a boy named Wharton, who naturally went by Wart – sat on the floor amid a pile of parts left over from Severus’ initial construction of a stationary tandem bicycle. At not quite four, he was far too young to be trusted with metal parts and pieces of a size that could easily fit down his throat or up his nose, but given his genes, Severus determined it was a safe enough bet, and it kept him occupied and reasonably quiet while Severus tried to piece his brain back together again.

Despite the proximity of Harry Potter, tight jeans and enticing stubble and the smell of the ocean and sun in his hair and sandalwood oil on his skin, sex was not in the forefront of his mind. It was there – but had fallen back at least two places as he dealt with the enormity of what Potter had just told him.

He sat on the sofa, fortifying glass of scotch at his elbow, while Potter awkwardly fed the baby, holding the child nearly horizontal, head somehow lower than the rest of him. Severus had never actually held a baby, but instinctively knew this position couldn’t be right and voiced his opinion on the matter. Potter tried a new position, sitting the baby between his legs, facing Severus, until he was practically vertical. The baby screwed its face up, preparing for a scream. “Let me have that,” Snape said, exasperated, taking the bottle from Potter’s hands. Apparently, Potter’s skill with inventive yet comfortable positions in bed did not transfer outside of the bedroom. Snape set the bottle on the side table, then reached for the baby and positioned it in his arms. He inserted the nipple of the bottle into the infant’s conveniently open mouth, primed it a couple of times and held the bottle with two fingers while the child greedily sucked down the formula.

“How – how did you _do_ that?” Potter asked. Wharton looked over at them and executed a nearly flawless eye roll.

“I have no idea,” Severus said. The child simply _fit_ in his arms, and settled in for an early lunch. It was really too much to believe that he was holding a genetic copy of Albus Dumbledore while his own mini-me played with bolts and chains. But as if to settle any doubts he had, the baby looked up at him and had the audacity to _twinkle_.

Potter, relieved of his child-feeding responsibilities, dropped his head into his hands and moaned. Actually moaned. 

“Stop _doing_ that!” exclaimed Wharton.

“What he said,” muttered Severus.

“I’m going to kill Hermione,” Harry said, dropping his head back to rest on the top of the sofa cushion so that he was staring at the ceiling. “She could have at least warned me – she could have messaged me that the Ministry was using all its post-war free time and extra resources to figure out how to clone former headmasters before I came home to _this_!” He indicated the children with a vague wave of his hand.

“For Merlin’s sake, she’s an Unspeakable, Potter,” Snape said. “She could no sooner tell you about the program than you could tell her I’m alive. And she might not even know about it – we have no idea who’s involved.”

Severus didn’t imagine his day could get much worse. However, overwhelmed, irate and befuddled as he was, there was something rather intriguing about little Wharton – really, the name would have to go – and he tried to put a practical spin to the whole matter. The Ministry was no different now than it had ever been – overrun by fools, overstepping its boundaries, executing morally ambiguous decisions. But legally – legally, Wharton, composed entirely of his own DNA, was his property. Legal custody could hardly be spun any other way, at least if he revealed himself as not-really-dead. Wulfric, on the other hand….

“I will consider keeping him,” he found himself saying, to his great surprise. Obviously, the shock had permanently damaged his intellect. He had no experience with young children, didn’t like school-aged children, and had, until this very moment, been vehemently opposed to the idea of having any of his own. He’d had only one thing on his mind when he’d seen Potter, and that was sex. Sex of an aggressively passionate nature, in fact, as the two men continued to work out their complicated past, present and future.

Potter stared at him, mouth open.

“Keep him? Wart?”

He waited, and Severus, feeling more than a little shell-shocked, eventually nodded.

“Alright. Let’s just say you’ve not gone batshit crazy and you keep Wart. So what happens to the baby?”

Severus tightened his grip on the warm little body and for a moment made himself contemplate raising Albus Dumbledore. He shuddered. “Take him back.”

“Take him back? I can’t just take him _back_ , Severus. Can you even imagine an Albus Dumbledore raised by house-elves?”

“Well, what’s your plan, then, Potter? Keep him yourself? Take it up with Aberforth and see if he’ll do the honours? Drop him off at Molly’s and hope he gets lost in the crowd and goes home with someone who won’t notice one more child? If that’s your plan, I think you’ll have a fighting chance with this one.” He jiggled the baby in his arms. “He’s practically a ginger.”

“It’s not funny.” Harry was clearly affronted. “I came home this morning, prepared to show my face to the Wizarding world for the first time in ten years. I Apparated to Grimmauld Place and had about a minute and a half to use the loo before I walked into the kitchen and found six house-elves and these two. It took nearly an hour to get it all sorted with all of them talking at once and Wharton there correcting them. They clearly don’t approve of the Ministry giving them ‘Headmaster Snape’s little boy’ to raise since they apparently all know something the Ministry clearly does not – _that you’re alive!_.”

“You do realise that the house-elves are the reason I’m alive today, Potter. We’ve had this discussion.”

“Yes – but ALL of them?” 

“Of course not all of them. Three of them, specifically, but if you understood house-elf society – and you clearly do not – you’d know that their relationships are complex. Everyone is very literally connected to everyone else. There are no _secrets_ , Potter, unless a specific elf is bound to a family. They never divulge information outside of their society unless there is a transgression so egregious that it cannot be contained.”

“Like the Ministry cloning dead headmasters.”

“I have an idea the Ministry is less interested in the process itself than setting up a solid back-up plan should another dark lord arise,” Severus said. “And frankly, I’ve done my time – as has Albus.” He moved the baby to his shoulder to coax a burp out of him. “Wulfric is certainly a giveaway for anyone who knew Albus well. Why did the house-elves come to you, anyway?”

Harry groaned. “Because Kreacher told them I know where you are,” he admitted. “He was the reason I found you in the first place, you know. Since they knew you were alive, they could accept the fact that the Ministry somehow got your son. They acted like Wolf was just brought in to entertain Wart – a ready-made friend and brother. Plus – one of them overheard Hermione tell one of the other Unspeakables that I had a thing for Severus Snape.”

“A thing for me?” Severus repeated. He narrowed his eyes, staring suspiciously at Potter. It didn’t surprise him – Potter had shown an unhealthy obsession with him from the very beginning, choosing to drop in on him when he didn’t even come to Britain to visit his friends. That they’d resolved the impasse with a weekend of earth-shattering sex by his third visit had clarified things a bit, but it was still surprising to hear him _admit_ to it.

“Snape, Snape, Severus Snape! Snape, Snape, Severus Snape!” chanted Wharton in a sing-song voice, jumping around like a bouncy ball and mimicking the intonation of the house-elves who had raised him. He then clasped his hands behind his back, standing up very straight. “Severus Snape, half-blood, served as Headmaster of Hogwarts from August, 1997 until May, 1998. Spy for Albus Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix, Snape sacrificed his life for the Boy Who Lived and the Wizarding world. While witnesses saw him die, bitten by Voldemort’s snake Nagini, his body was never found. He was awarded the Order of Merlin, 1st class, and the Crimson Pin of Courage posthumously.”

Harry and Severus stared at Wart.

“You don’t happen to collect Chocolate Frog cards, do you?” asked Harry.

“Chocolate Frog cards?” Severus turned on Harry. 

Harry held out a hand and Wart reached into the pocket of his tiny robes and extracted a trading card in a protective plastic case. “Don’t mess it up!” he warned as he reluctantly handed it over to Harry. “It’s my favorite. Snape’s way cool.” 

“Do you have Harry Potter?” asked Harry, giving Snape a rather smug sidelong glance.

The child gave an exaggerated sigh. “Only seven of them,” he said with a small eye roll. “ _Everyone_ has Harry Potter – they only make about twenty of them. But ZaZa traded me _three_ Snapes _including_ Young Death Eater Snape for one Harry Potter Parselmouth.”

“Harry Potter Parselmouth?” Harry gave Wart a worried glance. “And who’s ZaZa?”

And there was the eye roll again.

“One of the other kids,” Wart said, speaking very slowly as if Harry was slow-witted. “Button has all eight original Harry Potters and a Dumbledore with twinkly eyes. And Wobbly gave me a Professor Trelawney for Christmas. I chucked it when he wasn’t looking.”

“Button and Wobbly?” Harry frowned. “Are those your friends, then?” He gave Severus an incredulous look, clearly thinking that the poor child had imaginary friends.

“House-elves,” Severus mouthed.

“House-elves?” Harry mouthed back. “There are house-elf children?”

“Of course there are house-elf children!” exclaimed Severus. “Did you think they came out fully grown and dressed in tea towels?”

Snape had snatched the card away from Harry and was studying it, a rather ethereal feeling taking over. He’d been away from the Wizarding world for so long, and had left at such a pivotal point in its history, keeping up only on the news reported in the main section of _The Daily Prophet_ , that what passed for popular culture in the Wizarding world was not something he even considered. This particular card, clearly treasured by the child, depicted him as Potions Master Snape. While highly romanticised with steaming cauldron and swirls of coloured smoke, it was exactly how he imagined himself when he thought of his past life.

“So, Wharton,” he began, tapping the card thoughtfully, “this is your favorite card depicting Severus Snape?”

Little Wharton nodded vigorously, then stretched out his hand for the card. Severus gave it over, and the boy carefully returned it to his pocket. He then plopped down on the sofa between Severus and Harry with an exaggerated bounce.

Severus didn’t recall ever having bounced on furniture as a child. He was torn between scolding the boy and bouncing along with him.

“You should change Wolf’s nappy,” Wharton said, scrunching up his nose. 

“Wulfric,” Harry and Severus corrected, at the exact same time.

“We all call him Wolf,” Wharton said. “Wulfric is a stupid name.”

“Don’t say stupid,” they said, in unison again, exchanging a quick glance over his head. 

“Well it _is_ stupid,” he pouted. “Just like Wharton. Why can’t I have a cool name like Severus?”

“Or Harry,” Harry said. “Harry’s a cool name too, don’t you think?”

“Not as cool as Severus,” Wharton insisted. “Did you know that Severus Snape knew how to _fly_?”

“Harry Potter could fly on a broom,” Harry countered. “He played Seeker for Gryffindor.”

Little Wharton looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. Clearly, he wasn’t planning to be sorted into Gryffindor when he got to Hogwarts, and wasn’t about to be impressed by broom flying.

“He also once flew on a Thestral,” Harry added. “Do you know what a Thestral is?”

“Well, I’ve never actually _seen_ one, have I?” answered Wart. “I’m just a little boy.”

Severus found his hand, the one not holding onto Wulfric, reaching down to squeeze said little boy’s shoulder in solidarity.

“Right – good. Of course you’ve not seen one, have you?” Harry said. He gave Wart a lopsided smile that Severus thought he meant to be reassuring but which, in fact, looked like he had a bit of wind.

“But Harry Potter also rode a dragon, and that _is_ cool,” Wart said, bouncing his little bottom again on the sofa. 

Harry’s grin now was genuine. Ten years after the escape-by-dragon from Gringotts and Harry still got a massive adrenaline rush just thinking about it.

“Oh Oh Oh! I don’t have Harry Potter and the Flying Ford Anglia.” He sighed dramatically. “Maybe I could get it for Christmas.”

“Wharton – perhaps you should know that this is Harry Potter. The same Harry Potter that defeated the Dark Lord.” Severus spoke in a no-nonsense voice. He had a sixth sense about what would work with this particular child.

Wharton’s small head swiveled to regard Harry. His dark eyes narrowed as he studied Harry’s face silently, then he shook his head, looking doubtfully at Severus. Severus, wondering what in the world had got into him, reached over and deliberately pushed back Harry’s fringe to expose the famous scar.

“You _are_ Harry Potter!” The little boy’s eyes widened. He stood and wedged himself in between Harry’s legs, leaning far into his personal space. “You were the last one who ever saw Severus Snape alive!”

Snape, whose day had started out mediocre and turned progressively worse, and had then taken a sudden turn for un-fucking-believable before settling into an ethereal sort of alternate reality, snorted. 

Harry, who really did not have a big head about his accomplishments but who had a competitive streak as long as Diagon Alley, surprised Severus with his answer.

“I was. Very definitely. It was a very sad day, even though the Dark Lord was finally dead.”

“Voldemort. You should say Voldemort.” Wharton said. “And aren’t you going to charge Wolf’s nappy _ever_?”

Wulfric, resting contentedly on Severus’ lap, kicked his legs and squawked.

“Nappies, Potter?” 

“In the pram, in the bag with the formula. But Sev –”

“Seth,” said Severus, very quickly, giving Harry a meaningful look. 

“Ah – right. But _Seth_ – I’ve never changed a nappy. I’ve no idea how to go about it.”

“You’ve got to take off the dirty one first,” instructed Wharton, who was now rummaging in the bag in the pram for the clean nappies. “And then you check it and banish the insides if they’re very smelly and chuck the whole thing in the bin. And use a special bin for the nappies or the whole thing will go wonky. Then you need to wipe his bum and fasten the new one round him. And he likes to kick when his nappy is off, and sometimes he has a pee, too.”

“You know quite a bit about nappy changes,” Harry said, with an overly friendly smile. “Can you change a nappy all by yourself?”

“Potter!”

“All right! All right! I’ll do it!” He held out his hands for the baby. “Can I use your bed?”

“ _May_ I,” said the small Snape and the larger one in unison as Potter disappeared, holding the baby out in front of him by his armpits. For a few minutes, Wharton and Severus regarded each other critically.

There was quite a bit going through Severus’ head, none of it particularly pleasant. He was going to curse whomever at the Ministry had the brilliant idea of cloning baby headmasters. All headmasters, himself included, donated memories and a small amount of genetic material for their official portraits. He’d put up with the memory extraction, as well as the clump of hair pulled out by the roots, with only a fair amount of grumbling. 

“Do you have toys?” asked Wharton, looking ruefully at the collection of parts he’d already categorized.

“No,” Severus answered. “I don’t play.”

“Then what do you do?” asked the child, looking around the room and obviously finding it lacking.

“I write. I research. I work in the garden.”

Wharton perked up at the mention of the garden. “May I go outside, then?”

Severus thought of the gang of adolescents down the street kicking balls into his gut. “No.”

Miraculously, Wharton didn’t whine. “Can I help Harry with Wolf?” he asked after a few more moments of staring at each other.

“By all means,” Severus said. “You can, and you may. Please remind him to wash his hands when he’s finished.”

Wharton happily skipped out of the room and Severus sank thoughtfully back onto the sofa.

ooOOOoo

“Look, I admit it – I panicked. I didn’t think it through. I don’t _have_ a plan – other than that these kids can’t go back to the Ministry and someone’s got to stop the Ministry from making _more_ of them.”

Severus glanced over at the loveseat where Wharton had fallen asleep while paging through a Hogwarts first year Potions textbook. He’d tucked Wulfric in the pram after Potter had worked him into a screaming frenzy trying to lull him to sleep by patting his back while he bounced about the room, baby held to his shoulder. It had quickly become obvious that Potter wasn’t a natural with children, which seemed to both surprise and confuse him, and that Severus was – which bewildered both of them all the more.

Now that he wasn’t being jiggled about by Potter, the child slept soundly, fist in his mouth, making tiny grunts now and again as he slept. 

Two hours ago, Severus had been enjoying a rather bland but perfectly acceptable life as a disenfranchised wizard, free to do as he pleased. He divided his time between his manual writing, potions research, writing his memoirs in the guise of a Muggle novel, and either having creative and rowdy sex with Harry Potter or creating role-play scenarios for Potter’s next visit. He hadn’t missed having a life partner, or a family, and indeed, found the company of other humans generally disagreeable, though Potter’s had surprisingly proven tolerable, irregular as it was. After a lifetime of answering to someone else, of being beholden to a greater power, he was still finding life on his own terms perfectly satisfying.

Or he had been – up until two hours ago.

“You’ve got yourself in a pickle, then, Potter,” he said, watching Potter agonise over the unfortunate situation in which he found himself. “No matter what you do, someone loses. If you expose the program, the children will be exposed as well. You could approach the Minister of Magic directly, but you have no idea whether he already knows about the program. Your involvement in the matter exposes you as well, and you may not be ready for a return to your former visibility. If the _Prophet_ gets hold of this – well, I can’t see how that could possibly turn out well for the children, or the Ministry, though the house-elves may come out fairly well, seeing that they entrusted the boys to you and you’re still idolised more than is healthy.”

Harry, sitting beside him on the sofa, leaned inward and ran his fingers over Severus’ denim-clad leg. “You could come forward,” he suggested softly. “You’ve every right to claim Wart – and you could shake things up and end the program. Merlin, Severus. You _have_ to do something. They could make an army of little Snapes and Dumbledores before they’re done!”

“I don’t _have_ to do anything at all,” Severus stated. “You can’t tell anyone about me – not without breaking the Unbreakable Vow, anyway. I don’t advise that.”

“Then they can’t go to school at Hogwarts,” Harry said, quickly moving away from the topic of the unpleasant vow. “The professors would know – some of them were there when you were a student, Severus. We’re going to have to take them to France or, better yet – to the States, or Canada.”

“We are not moving to Canada!” Severus hissed. “And what would that solve, anyway? The Ministry would just make more – and then what? Would we come back each time and kidnap the children? If so, I suggest we do it before whatever ridiculous names they give them stick!”

Harry was very still beside him and Severus, running back over the conversation, realised his mistake.

“And by saying what we’re not going to do, I did not mean to imply that _we_ are going to do anything. Together.”

“No?” asked Harry, running his hand lightly over Severus’ thigh again. 

“No,” insisted Severus.

Wart sighed in his sleep. The Potions textbook slid off his stomach and closed itself on the cushion beside him. Harry smiled and snuggled closer to Severus.

“Do you miss the Wizarding world, Severus?” asked Harry a few minutes later. 

“No. I’m perfectly happy where I am.”

“You’re perfectly happy living as Alistair Cuddles, in Manchester, assembling ridiculous faddish exercise equipment for Muggles and writing assembly instructions.”

“Yes. Well, mostly. No one would want to be known as Mr. Cuddles. Dumbledore thought it was funny, of course. I imagine he thought it might lighten things up for me while I was spying for him.”

“You don’t miss having a state-of-the-art Potions laboratory? Shopping in Diagon Alley? Firewhiskey, Severus? Collecting ingredients in the Forbidden Forest? Flying?”

“Fine. I miss some things,” Severus conceded. “But I could go without them the rest of my life without a problem.”

“And what about Wharton? If you keep him – would you want to raise him as a Muggle?”

“Of course not! I – I ….” He trailed off. He wanted to say that he didn’t plan to raise Wharton at all, but he couldn’t force the words out. The problem was that he didn’t want anyone else raising the child, which left it to him by default. And the idea of raising Wharton in the Muggle world…

“So, you want to raise him in the Wizarding world. And you want him to go to Hogwarts – providing he’s magical, that is.”

“What are you on about? Of _course_ he’s magical – he’s _me_.”

“Alright – calm down.” Harry climbed into Severus’ lap, straddling his thighs, knees on the sofa on either side of him. Severus shivered as Harry’s lips traced over his ear. “So – you want to raise Wharton, you want him to know the magical world, so you’ll have to be a part of that world. But you don’t want the rest of the world to know that he’s anything other than your child, your progeny. And I want the same thing for Wulfric – I want him to grow up like an ordinary wizard, and go to Hogwarts, and be sorted, and have no idea he’s anything special at all, except to us.”

“Us?” Severus was a bit dazed, blinking hard as Potter kissed the sensitive spot on his neck just below his ear. Sexy, gentle, _romantic_ things like kissing were what turned him on the most, despite the imaginative ways he’d managed to tie Harry up or position him on every piece of furniture he owned before buggering him to Belgium and back.

“Us,” whispered Harry. “Listen, Severus. I know what to do. I have an idea….”

ooOOOoo

“Severus Snape, very much alive, registered his Muggle marriage to Harry Potter in a surprise appearance at the Ministry on Tuesday. The two stood in line at the Registrar’s office, waiting their turn while the harried clerk processed several couples before them, though were not recognized until they signed their names to the registration documents. Word traveled through the Ministry quickly and they had to take cover in a storage cupboard when the entire membership of the Wizengamot stormed the room. With Aurors arriving to control the situation, Potter and Snape then proceeded to register the Muggle birth certificates of their two children. The biological parentage of the two children, both boys, was not revealed, though the older is said to strongly resemble Snape and the younger to favour Potter’s mother.”

Harry folded the _Prophet_ and handed Severus the baby bum wipes. It certainly seemed as if someone was forever changing a nappy nowadays. In fact, it certainly seemed as if _Severus_ was doing the lion’s share of the work.

“The younger one favours you in some ways, too,” Severus said, dropping a handful of soiled wipes into Harry’s hands. “He’s a picky eater, is terribly fussy and seems to be lactose intolerant.”

“I never really thought of Dumbledore as fussy,” Harry said as he tossed the wipes in the bin and disinfected his hands. “And I’m not a picky eater.”

“You peel your grapes,” Severus said. He’d never seen _anyone_ peel grapes before and considered it a colossal waste of time and a tragic loss of both vitamins and fiber.

They looked down together at Brian’s little face. Severus imagined Harry was picturing it with half-moon glasses on it, but Severus himself imagined the baby sucking on a sherbet lemon.

“What’s Wart up to?”

“Andrew,” Snape reminded him. Really, was this so difficult? “Andrew Wharton.”

“He’s never going to answer to Andrew.”

“Andrew is playing with the crup.”

“The crup?” Harry frowned. “Severus – we don’t have a crup.”

“We do now,” Severus said. “Didn’t you say the children needed things to play with?”

“Toys, Severus. Toys!”

“Well, you should have made that more clear.”

He finished the nappy change without further comment, scoring one for himself – since he did most of the nappies, Harry would by default be in charge of walking the crup and cleaning up after it. He hoped pet care came more naturally to Harry than parenting. He picked up the baby, not for the first time considering the irony of caring for the every need of the clone of a man he’d himself sent to the great beyond. Harry followed them out of the room and was nearly knocked over when three very fast-moving blurs raced between them.

“What was _that_?” Harry asked as Severus steadied him with his free hand.

“Andrew and ZaZa,” Severus said. “Chasing the crup.”

He cringed as they heard a crash, a bark, then giggles. “Whose idea was it again to….?”

Severus stared him down before he could finish the sentence.

ooOOOoo

“Oh Harry, they’re precious! And you look fabulous. No wonder you’ve been keeping to yourself these past years – we’re just so sorry to have missed it all but we certainly understand – don’t we, Ron?”

Hermione passed Brian Severus over to Ron, who was still staring at Severus as if he was about to be called on to list the ingredients in a virility potion. Finding himself with an armload of baby, he stared at it instead. Finally, apparently having verified to himself that the child was real and that Snape, indeed, was real as well, he spoke haltingly. 

“So – you have kids. Two kids. With Snape. Who’s not actually dead. And you – _you_ had them.” He gestured vaguely at Harry’s midsection. “They came out of you – somehow. After Snape put them in there – somehow….”

“Ron!” exclaimed Hermione. “I _told_ you they used a surrogate!”

“I have no idea what that is!” Ron exclaimed. “I thought it was some sort of…of equipment!”

“Right,” said Harry, clapping Ron reassuringly on the shoulder and looking worriedly over at Severus. Severus knew he looked as though he’d like to have Ron for lunch. “Andrew Wharton and Brian Severus.” 

“Right – yeah.” Ron gave him a weak smile as he regarded the baby in his arms. He frowned at the child’s hair, then looked back up at Harry, then at Severus, then back to Harry, looking pointedly at their hair. “You sure you didn’t get him mixed up with Ginny’s ….?” 

“Ron – Harry’s mother was a redhead,” Hermione cut in. 

“Oh. Yeah.” Ron smiled weakly, but he didn’t look convinced. “Lily. The one Snape was in love with.”

“Ron!” Severus thought Granger was one step away from filing for divorce, or having her husband’s IQ tested to see if he qualified for special assistance. Probably best to change the subject before her head exploded.

“Brian needs a nappy change,” Severus said.

“Here you go then,” said Ron, rather happily, holding the baby out to Severus as Severus thrust the nappy bag toward him.

“I’ll help!” exclaimed Wart. He let go of Severus’ hand. “May I please, Daddy?”

Severus’ lips quirked into the almost-smile he’d been showing so often these last few weeks. Andrew had taken the news that the cool man in the awesome house with the fabulous books was Severus Snape, his new dad, quite well. “Please. And do make sure Uncle Ronald wipes his bum thoroughly. Brian has had spinach for the first time and there’s bound to be a mess in there up to his navel.”

“You’re evil,” said Harry as Ron, still too terrified of Severus to protest, held the baby out in front of him as far as possible while Wart skipped along beside him, telling him that he could call him Wart if he’d like, and the baby was Wolfie, which was a far better name than boring old Brian.

“He’s done Rose loads of times,” Hermione said. “They’ll be fine.” She watched Ron and the children disappear into the house, then settled onto a chair beside their garden table. Harry and Severus sat as well, sitting opposite Hermione as if awaiting an inquisition.

“So – I think I can safely tell you something now that I’ve had to hold back on, but they’ve declassified the program and are thinking of changing gears. There’s a job there for you, if you want it, but don’t tell them I told you so.”

“Oh?” said Severus. “Do tell.”

Hermione lowered her voice.

“First of all – I think it was unethical, morally ambiguous and short-sighted,” she said. “And to think they approached me to be a _carrier_!”

“What?” prompted Harry. “And what do you mean, a carrier?”

“A surrogate! They wanted me to carry a baby.” She lowered her voice further and looked around her empty garden, then muttered a quick privacy spell. “For a _clone_. All this worry about the number of magical babies being born, the increased number of Squibs as more and more witches and wizards marry Muggles. So some arse-wipe at the Ministry decided _cloning_ was the answer. Exact replicas of powerful witches and wizards to spread their genetic material around.”

Harry, apparently still reeling from Hermione’s use of the word arse-wipe, didn’t have to try for a more surprised look on his face. Severus kept his own face schooled, of course, though he, too, was impressed with Granger’s unexpected vocabulary.

“And our announcement led the Ministry to think about focusing on same-sex reproduction instead,” Severus pretended to guess.

“Exactly.”

Well, what she didn’t know certainly wouldn’t hurt her, Severus thought. In fact, if Granger was fooled by the apparent voluntary turnaround at the Ministry, their plan was working better than they’d thought possible. 

Now, all he had to do was figure out how to make a baby from two sperm, or two eggs. Fortunately, he’d faced even greater challenges in his day, like how to make anti-venom strong enough to save him after a giant snake had nearly decapitated him. Or how to teach Harry Potter for six years and not think of Lily every time he looked at the boy’s face.

Funny thing was – he never even thought of her eyes anymore when he looked at Harry.

ooOOOoo

“Former Hogwarts headmaster Severus Snape, recently returned from a post-war hiatus and recovery from injuries sustained in the war, has been appointed Head of Genetics & Experimental Research at the Ministry’s newly-formed Wizarding Population Studies Department. Snape, whose own children were conceived through Snape’s manipulation of his and husband Harry Potter’s genetic material with a donor host egg, brings twenty years of secret research to the table. According to a statement released by Snape and Potter following the magical registration of their children, Andrew Wharton (4) and Brian Severus (1), Snape, a Potions Master, spent the entirety of his Hogwarts years and much of the subsequent ten studying the fertility issues and other medical and genetic concerns affecting magical peoples, especially in pureblood families. He hypothesised that developing a way for same-sex partners to procreate would introduce more genetic diversity into the gene pool, with the expected result of more successful births and more healthy children.

“‘My previous personal success does not guarantee immediate results at the Ministry,’ Snape said at a press conference following his appointment. ‘Dabbling in genetics and procreation is a serious matter, and we will approach our research with the correct, documented blend of magic and science.’

“When asked about his own progeny, Snape stated that he suspects the genetic balance in both children is slightly skewed in favour of one parent over the other, and his goal is a perfect blend on both parents, as in natural procreation.”

Harry began to fold the paper but the kneazle, hearing the rustle, clawed it from his hands.

“Slightly skewed, huh?” he asked, peeking over Severus’ shoulder to watch Brian splash in the tub.

Severus handed Harry the shampoo bottle. “I think I hear the kettle.”

“The kettle’s not on, you wanker!” Harry called as Severus breezed out of the room.

“Da!”

“How you got custard inside your ears I’ll never know,” Harry said. “Why won’t he let me use a…?”

“Don’t use a Scourgify!” Severus called from the doorway as Harry set to work with the flannel, and couldn’t help but laugh when Brian patted suds on his nose.

“I know exactly what he’s going to do,” Harry said as Brian slid out of the way of the flannel as Harry made for his ear. “He’s going to use all the cloning research the Ministry’s already got and he’ll have this same-sex procreation worked out before summer.”

Brian indicated his approval by twinkling. 

“He’d better,” Harry grinned. “You might want to have kids of your own one day.”

ooOOOoo

“Niiiiice! So I can give up my day job, then?” Harry asked as they studied their Gringotts statement together as the new kneazle kitten climbed the Christmas tree and Andrew threw ornaments and Brian rolled them to the crup.

“Your day job is in Aruba and you haven’t been there in a year,” Severus said. “So I’m not sure what, exactly, you’ll be giving up.”

“Well, the _idea_ of it,” Harry said. He reached out a hand, reflexes still stunningly sharp, and plucked an ornament out of the air as it sailed toward Severus’ head. “I can still give personal massages, of course.”

Severus folded the parchment they’d been studying, then raised an eyebrow at Harry. “And not worry about ethics violations if you give up your Muggle license,” he noted.

Harry rubbed a curled fist into a particular spot on Severus’ upper back and Severus groaned. He couldn’t help but press back against the marvelous pressure. Harry had learned to hit all the right buttons. 

“This thing with us is working out pretty well, don’t you think?” Harry asked, moving his hands to Severus’ shoulders. Merlin, his touch was magic.

“Well enough,” Severus agreed. “As it must. We agreed – it’s for the children.”

“For the children,” agreed Harry. He continued kneading Severus’ knotted shoulders, then added softly. “And for us.”

“Ah.” Severus let another long moment pass before he spoke again. “It’s not what we agreed.”

“We agreed we’d do whatever was needed for the children,” Harry countered. “And having a real us, not a pretend us to keep the Ministry from churning out more baby headmasters, is good for them, too.”

“Hmmm,” agreed Severus. 

“Severus?”

“Yes?” He groaned as those lovely fingers worked a particularly troublesome spot at the base of his neck.

“I really don’t miss Aruba,” Harry said. “I like it here. With you, and the kids, and the pets, and random tiny house-elf children running amok.”

“Amok?” Severus smiled. He turned and backed Harry against the wall. “Is that what you call it when they lose their flannels and run about naked?” Harry had been surprised to learn that house-elf children wore flannels instead of tea towels. In fact, Andrew had gone through a stage where it was a major fight to dress him in anything more than a loincloth made from a ratty old flannel Severus had tossed in the bin.

“No – I call that disturbing,” Harry answered with an exaggerated shudder. “Who knew that house-elves were hiding _that_ under those tea towels.”

Harry kissed Severus then, and Severus realised that, all in all, he’d had many more good days than bad of late, and that he’d almost forgotten how to use the Elasticity Spell since his knee hadn’t troubled him in six months. And that Harry Potter wasn’t popping in on him every few months for a round of vigorous sex because Harry Potter was sleeping in his bed every night and, some nights, doing a lot more than sleeping. And if his hair didn’t smell of the ocean and sun any more, it did smell pleasantly of peanut butter and jam.

And sometimes they would engage in a round of Severus’ favorite extracurricular activity – flipping Harry over on his stomach and stretching out the preparation process for so long that Harry _begged_ for it and said his name like a supplicant’s prayer. But sometimes, they’d lie side by side, exhausted after a day of chasing children, pets and tiny house-elves, and Harry would say he missed Aruba and the sand and the sun, but Severus, in his heart of hearts, knew he didn’t really mean it at all.

And to top it off, Alistair Cuddles had met a grisly end after an unfortunate mishap with a poorly constructed high-speed treadmill, and his cousin Severus Snape was named beneficiary of his estate. Even better, the house on Fetter Lane hadn’t seen a new piece of Muggle exercise equipment in nearly a year.

“I wonder what a girl would be like,” Harry mused sleepily one night, spooning behind Severus and smelling pleasantly of hot chocolate.

Severus stiffened. “I’d hardly know,” he said. “I have no experience in the area. I imagine she’d have a hard time buggering you to your satisfaction.”

“No, you dolt. Not _that_ kind of girl. A _daughter_.”

”A daughter?” Severus didn’t know what to think. “A…a daughter.”

“Well, think about it,” Harry, nuzzling his head into Severus’ neck and holding him around his middle. “I just thought it would be nice….for the children.”

“Of course – for the children,” Severus said vaguely.

“And for us, too,” said Harry. And he yawned, and snuggled in even closer, and closed his eyes without another thought. But Severus couldn’t sleep, thinking about the boys they had, and the daughter they might have one day, and most especially about the _us_ that held it all together.

“Wilhelmina,” Potter murmured sleepily. “Willie for short.” 

“You forget you lost all naming rights,” Severus whispered. “You traded them to me for a turn at topping more than a year ago.”

“Naming rights for _pets_!” exclaimed Harry, climbing over Severus and flopping down to face him. “We were talking about names for the kneazle!”

“It wasn’t explicitly stated,” Severus countered.

“Fine. You can name her, then,” Harry conceded. 

“Wait – I never agreed….”

But Harry snuggled up against him again and dropped off to sleep, and Severus soon followed him.

In his dreams, the green-eyed girl had hair as dark as coal, and Willie suited her just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment here or at [Livejournal](https://snape-potter.livejournal.com/3779598.html), [Insanejournal](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snape_potter/1714622.html), or [Dreamwidth](https://snape-potter.dreamwidth.org/1026112.html).


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